Read Online The Prince in the Tower by Lydia M Sheridan - Free Book Online
Authors: Lydia M Sheridan
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sorrow for herself, soon to be alone, unloved, with the c hildren grown and gone, only herself and Lady Alice left to rattle around that great empty pile of a house. Until Bertie married and brought home a wife, a shrew, without a doubt, Kate predicted gloomily. Because the dragoons were staking it out, she couldn't even carry out her last robbery from the huge oak down by the river, protecting her and Diana until they roared through the hedgerow and up the hill toward the oncoming coach--
What on earth?
There, on the rocky bank of the river, just past where it crossed the post road, lay a mound of what looked like sodden cloth. But the clenching of her stomach told her without doubt that it was more than a mound of cloth, still wet from the rushing waters.
Her desire to flee warred with her sense of right. With ever y step Diana took toward the pile, the more Kate yearned never to have come out this night. Let someone else find the poor person, let someone else get off her horse, pull off her mask, walk toward the body. But there was no one else, so Kate reluctantly dismounted from Diana’s broad back.
A few feet from the body, the breeze changed direction. Kate could make out the outline of the body, half in the river, half out, lying pitifully on the bank, the current lapping at his limp arm. Or perhaps it was a leg. The unimaginable odor caused her to stumble, recoiling. Vomit rose in her throat and she retched. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her mouth on her cloak, covering her face with her silk scarf. Then she leaned over to see the face.
No amount of water-log could disguise the features completely of one whom her family knew so well. Nothing could cause his chin to grow or his eyes to close, not now.
It was Adam Weilmunster.
Kate pressed her cloak to her mouth with both hands to stop the scream. The horror of the moment was so terrible as to be almost unbearable. Not knowing what she was doing, she heard someone pray.
"Hail Mary, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our deaths.”
Then she realized i t was herself repeating the ancient prayers learned at her mother’s knee, repeated so often, granting so much comfort, that they were second nature. She reached to grab an arm to drag Mr. Weilmunster out of the river, grateful beyond words that she was wearing heavy gloves. She fancied she could feel the clamminess of his skin through the heavy leather. His eyes stared up at her, sightlessly accusing--
"Halt ! In the King’s name!”
Her he art in her throat, Kate froze.
" Halt or I’ll shoot!”
“Show yourself, man!”
There was a dull gleam of moonlight on metal through the underbrush. Kate threw herself up in the saddle, t urned Diana short and clapped her heels to the horse's flanks. They raced as fast as she dared through the rain-slick forest. She had no thoughts of keeping silent. They’d heard her, they’d seen her, and now they dogged her flight every step of the way. Not even a corpse could deter them.
Up, up, they went, splashing through the shallow bit of river, then up the hill. At the crest, she paused. across the post road, down the other side of the hill lay the old oak. The sight of it drew her up short. Too close lay the grounds of Bellevue. She tugged the reins and she and Diana veered off to the south. Once more they splashed through the river, circling below the Malford House. Kate listened carefully, her ears sensitive enough to hear a squirrel’s heartbeat--or was that the sound of a horse?
In the distance lay Malford House. Several windows on the ground and first floors glowed a cheerful yellow, unknowingly obscene on this night of death. Slowly, she took the opportunity to slide down from Diana’s back. Working swiftly, she tore off the plumed hat, rolling it mercilessly into her saddlebag. She tore off the wig, her hair frizzing out wildly in the gathering mist. She ripped off the cloak,
What on earth?
There, on the rocky bank of the river, just past where it crossed the post road, lay a mound of what looked like sodden cloth. But the clenching of her stomach told her without doubt that it was more than a mound of cloth, still wet from the rushing waters.
Her desire to flee warred with her sense of right. With ever y step Diana took toward the pile, the more Kate yearned never to have come out this night. Let someone else find the poor person, let someone else get off her horse, pull off her mask, walk toward the body. But there was no one else, so Kate reluctantly dismounted from Diana’s broad back.
A few feet from the body, the breeze changed direction. Kate could make out the outline of the body, half in the river, half out, lying pitifully on the bank, the current lapping at his limp arm. Or perhaps it was a leg. The unimaginable odor caused her to stumble, recoiling. Vomit rose in her throat and she retched. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her mouth on her cloak, covering her face with her silk scarf. Then she leaned over to see the face.
No amount of water-log could disguise the features completely of one whom her family knew so well. Nothing could cause his chin to grow or his eyes to close, not now.
It was Adam Weilmunster.
Kate pressed her cloak to her mouth with both hands to stop the scream. The horror of the moment was so terrible as to be almost unbearable. Not knowing what she was doing, she heard someone pray.
"Hail Mary, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our deaths.”
Then she realized i t was herself repeating the ancient prayers learned at her mother’s knee, repeated so often, granting so much comfort, that they were second nature. She reached to grab an arm to drag Mr. Weilmunster out of the river, grateful beyond words that she was wearing heavy gloves. She fancied she could feel the clamminess of his skin through the heavy leather. His eyes stared up at her, sightlessly accusing--
"Halt ! In the King’s name!”
Her he art in her throat, Kate froze.
" Halt or I’ll shoot!”
“Show yourself, man!”
There was a dull gleam of moonlight on metal through the underbrush. Kate threw herself up in the saddle, t urned Diana short and clapped her heels to the horse's flanks. They raced as fast as she dared through the rain-slick forest. She had no thoughts of keeping silent. They’d heard her, they’d seen her, and now they dogged her flight every step of the way. Not even a corpse could deter them.
Up, up, they went, splashing through the shallow bit of river, then up the hill. At the crest, she paused. across the post road, down the other side of the hill lay the old oak. The sight of it drew her up short. Too close lay the grounds of Bellevue. She tugged the reins and she and Diana veered off to the south. Once more they splashed through the river, circling below the Malford House. Kate listened carefully, her ears sensitive enough to hear a squirrel’s heartbeat--or was that the sound of a horse?
In the distance lay Malford House. Several windows on the ground and first floors glowed a cheerful yellow, unknowingly obscene on this night of death. Slowly, she took the opportunity to slide down from Diana’s back. Working swiftly, she tore off the plumed hat, rolling it mercilessly into her saddlebag. She tore off the wig, her hair frizzing out wildly in the gathering mist. She ripped off the cloak,
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